


in vino veritas

by okteivia (naquaduh)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Drunken Confessions, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naquaduh/pseuds/okteivia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘In vino veritas, Princess.’<br/>‘Bellamy, you know I hate Latin.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	in vino veritas

Clarke was distracted from her studies by four consecutive taps on her front door. Four _really loud_ consecutive taps on her front door.

Growling in frustration, Clarke pulled the white earbuds out, threw down her pen, and got up. She left the Latin textbook open on the bench in hope that whoever it was wouldn’t take long. (She’d _finally_ been about to concentrate on her work, and hated being interrupted when she’d just gotten into it.)

The person knocked again impatiently, further souring her mood.

‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ she huffed.

So she may have taken more time than necessary actually unlocking the door, just to spite the asshole on the other side, and in that time, quickly thought over who it could be. And how far she could go in making sure they realised their mistake.

When she opened it, all her bad thoughts dissipated.

‘You remember you don’t live here anymore, right?’ she teased, because there, in front of her, was her former roommate.

Bellamy Blake had lived with her for 3 years, and been her best friend for 2 of them. He’d moved out two months ago – to live with his co-worker, Det. Nathan Miller – and even though he seemed to be here every week, she’s missed his constant presence. The sound of the shower at 6:30 in the morning, arguments the stupid olives he’d get on his pizza, or just the way he was always right there on the couch when she got home, almost as if he’d been waiting for her.

‘Ve’ funny, Princess.’

Princess. He hadn’t called her that since the night he’d moved out. She so busy thinking about that last word that she missed how slurred his words were.

Then she took in his appearance. Handsome as usual (even wearing his dishevelled work clothes) with his dark hair askew, freckles dancing across his face and a completely genuine smile peaking over his lips.

‘Well, you can still come in,’ she offered, not at all embarrassed about her own clothing; pink pyjama bottoms and a white singlet, and opened the door wider to accommodate.

Expecting Bellamy to follow, she made her way to the small kitchen, where all her homework was spread out and a now-cold mug of coffee sat.

‘Did you want one?’ Clarke offered him as she poured the contents into the sink.

He shook his head and moved forward to flick on the kettle for her. She mumbled a thanks without looking up from the sink.

‘So, why are you here so late?’ Clarke turned to face him and found Bellamy staring at her, eyes soft and full of thinly veiled emotion. She knew what that was; she’d seen it before, every other time this had happened, but she wanted to be wrong.

She broke contact under the guise of looking for a teaspoon.

‘Not that I don’t just love your company,’ she said, quick as the words would come, ‘but don’t you have work tomorrow?’

She could barely hear his answering ‘nope’ over the clinking utensils and beating in her ears.

‘So you went out.’

‘Yes.’

Looking back to up to him, Clarke saw a slight of guilt settle on his face. She knew he remembered that night. She quickly slammed the drawer closed.

‘You need to leave,’ she said with as much force as she could muster.

‘Wha? Clarke, I just nee–’

‘Bellamy. You need to go.’

He started moving towards her.

‘Clarke, please. You have t’ know–’

‘You’ve told me already. The last time.’

‘No. I know you didn’t believe me and you’ve got t’ know that I–’

‘Bellamy stop!’

He did.

The only sound was the ‘click’ when the kettle switched off.

‘You’ve got to stop doing this. I _can’t_ believe you.’

She saw the pain flash in his eyes and he finally, _finally_ , looked away. That hurt more than she expected, and her own vision started to cloud.

As if needing a distraction, his fingers begun flicking through the pages of her open Latin textbook.

‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe it if you only tell me that _you love me_ when you’re inebriated.’

He didn’t look up from the book.

‘Why do you keep doing this?’

‘In vino veritas, Princess.’

‘Bellamy, you know I hate Latin.’ She was also rather surprised that he could say that so clearly.

‘There is truth in wine. A drunken man tells no lie.’

‘Well come back this honest when you’re sober.’

**Author's Note:**

> so i didn't know how to end it but ???
> 
> (cry with me on tumblr: aerynsun.co.vu)


End file.
